What if?
by MsMonochrome
Summary: Prompt: I'd like to see a fic from Solomon's Temple, but instead of Altair being thrown from the room, Malik is. Malik goes back to report what happened to the mission. Altair ends up coming in with the Apple, his arm hurt from protecting Kadar. I'd like Altair to lose his status b/c he can't fight anymore. Malik takes over Altair's role. Discontinued.
1. How it began

The M rating is for violence and swearing. I mean, Assassin's Creed is a game centered around killing people. Also, I couldn't fit the whole prompt in the summary, so if anyone wants to see it, the link is on the Ao3 version of this story.

The thread is closed so I can't post it there anyway :P

Oh yeah. Assassin's Creed does not belong to me in any way, unless I become a billionaire and can buy the rights to it from ubisoft.

* * *

The dust-filled air of the tunnels smelled musty and felt unpleasant on the assassin's face, his clothes were damp from the heat and clung to his skin, making free running and climbing more difficult than it should have been due to discomfort. He didn't say anything of course, if he so much as uttered one word in an attempt to vent his feelings the Syrian knew that Malik would spring on him like a hawk on a mouse. A hawk might have been easier to deal with, as they didn't remind him of his rank as a master assassin, or how complaining did nothing to make things better, how he was uncomfortable too, but he wasn't complaining about it like a child. Kadar would try to stay out of the argument, but in the end, he would probably tell both Altair and Malik to just drop it so the three of them weren't discovered.

That was how the group worked, oh yes; they were all friendly with one another, if not actually friends. Kadar was someone easily likable, eager to please and to help a fellow brother out, his actual brother however, was quick to remind the master assassin just what he was doing wrong, why it was wrong, and how stupid he was being by messing up. Altair usually retaliated at this, and they would start bickering with each other until someone broke the two men apart. It was an interesting relationship they had, and apparently, Al Mualim thought that the three of them would be just perfect for this mission in Solomon's Temple.  
Now the assassin was silently fuming, he was one of the deadliest men in the country; he shouldn't be prowling around these gloomy tunnels so he could fetch some unknown artifact that might not even be there in the first place. He was Altair Ibn La'ahad, not someone's damned errand boy! He had much more important things to do than this nonsense. It was this annoyance, his discomfort, and his imagined conversation about said discomfort that fueled his veins, his blade needed to taste blood, and soon.

Their footsteps made little sound as the trio worked their way through the tunnels, none of them talked, and the only noise they heard was that of shifting stone made by some creature who had claimed this place as their home. They had to be near the actual temple now, the assassin theorized, they had been walking for so long already; it had to be nearby, right? Altair's mouth was dry, his lips cracked, but he didn't dare drink from his water skin just now, he didn't know when he would be able to fill it next.

A scuffling ahead of them told the trio that someone was coming towards them, and Altair, his muscles primed for action, leapt forward, ignoring Malik's protest, and sunk his hidden blade into the man's throat without even bothering to see just who the person to be slain was. The blood oozed in between his fingers and onto his sleeve, despite his effort to make the kill quick and clean, he wiped his hand off on the dead man's shirt, and then sensed the anger radiating out from Malik, a wave of heat that caused the assassin to take a few steps back.

Fortunately, for him, Kadar was the first to speak, offering praise rather than criticism.

"An excellent kill. Fortune favors your blade." The words sounded genuine, only a hint of shock working its way through into his voice.

"Not fortune. Skill. Watch a while longer and you might learn something." Altair answered without thinking, it was the truth, what else was he supposed to say?

"Indeed. He'll teach you how to disregard everything the master's taught us." Malik's voice held none of the calm his brother's had, it was as cold and sharp as a knife, hitting the master assassin and only making him more angry.

"And how would you have done it?" He demanded, daring Malik to have done better.

"I would not have drawn attention to us. I would not have taken the life of an innocent. What I would have done is follow the Creed." The Creed. Of course that was Malik's defense, he always fell back on the three tenants when he had nothing else to use in a fight.

"'Nothing is true. Everything is permitted." Understand these words. It matters not how we complete our task. Only how it's done." He sneered, although it went unseen due to the darkness surrounding them.

"But this is not the way of-"

"My way is better." Altair interrupted, not needing to hear any more from the man, who promptly turned around and strode away from the assassin.

"I will scout ahead. Try not to dishonor us further." Even as Malik's voice grew harder to hear it was impossible to ignore the steely edge in his voice. What a sore loser.

"What is our mission?" Kadar's voice seemed to be laced with curiosity and excitement. "My brother would say nothing to me. Only that I should be honored to have been invited."

"The Master believes the Templars have found something beneath the Temple mount." The assassin responded dully, still annoyed by the fact he was on the mission in the first place.

"Treasure?"

"I do not know." Altair admitted in the same flat tone, trying to keep the bitterness from showing itself. "All that matters is that the master considers it important, else he would not have asked me to retrieve it." He strode on ahead, Kadar following him eagerly through the run down wreck of a temple, keeping to the shadows as much as they could. The room they entered had fallen into disrepair, just like everything elsewhere it seemed. What had once been wooden scaffolding, or something of that sort, was now single boards propped up on stilts, precarious to traverse, yes, but nowhere near impossible.

At the top of the chamber stood a lone guard, his back facing them, and his mind clearly elsewhere if he had not heard the two men free running behind him. With a simple flick of his wrist Altair drew his hidden blade, and while clamping one hand over the man's mouth to prevent any noise from escaping he slit the guard's throat in a single movement before lowering him carefully to the ground to breathe his last breaths.

Footsteps approached them and Malik appeared from the doorway, cloaked in shadow and only visible to their trained eyes.

"I see you have dirtied your blade again." The man scoffed, still displeased with the assassin's earlier actions.

"To prevent him from calling attention to us? Yes, I thought that within the Creed." Altair snapped, failing to keep his irritation from showing itself.

"Of course you did." Malik replied, cutting off whatever the assassin might say by making his report. "I found something; you better come, let's see what you make of it."

Following behind Malik was frustrating, as the man gave no clues about just what he had found, not even to Kadar, his brother. It was as though he had beaten Altair at his own game and was just waiting to hold proof of his triumph over the master assassin's head. Finally they entered a balcony overlooking a large room, more lavishly decorated than any of the others had been; pillars lined the walls, and on the far side of the room stood the unfinished entrance to the main temple. Above the entrance, tucked between four pillars, stood a large, golden chest.

"There! That must be the Ark!" Malik whispered excitedly, looking at his brother.

"The... Ark... of the Covenant?" Kadar replied, as if not willing to believe what he saw.

"Don't be silly." Altair scoffed, rolling his eyes under his hood. "There's no such thing. It's just a story."

"Then what is it?"

Malik looked towards the entrance, a panicked look on his face, and backed away towards the door they had come through, arms extended so Altair and Kadar were also driven backwards. "Quiet! Someone's coming!" He hissed his voice barely audible.

"I want this through this gate by sunrise!" A very familiar voice exclaimed to the people around him. The man's bald head reflected the torches around him, and the red cross across his chest stood out even in the dim lighting. "The sooner we possess it, the sooner we can turn our attention to those jackals at Masyaf!  
"Robert de Sable." Altair's voice came out a growl. "His life is mine."

Malik grasped the master assassin's arm, trying to hold him back. "No! We would want to retrieve the treasure and deal with Robert only if necessary."

"He stands between us and it. I would say it's necessary."

"Discretion, Altair!"

"You mean cowardice." Altair scoffed, glaring at Malik. "That man is our greatest enemy. And here we have a chance to be rid of him!"

"You have already broken two tenets of our Creed." came Malik's retort. "Now you would break the third. Do not compromise the Brotherhood!"

"I am your superior, in both title and ability." Altair reminded the man scathingly. "You should know better than to question me." Before Malik could have the chance to reply the master assassin began descending the ladder, quickly and silently, before approaching Robert and his men.

"Hold Templars! You are not the only ones with business here." Malik cursed Altair's foolishness from his hiding spot, and began climbing down after him, Kadar following behind.

Robert was not fazed in the slightest to see the master assassin. "Ah! Well, this explains my missing man." was all he said. "And what is it you want?"

"Blood." Came Altair's reply as he charged forwards, his hidden blade extended and aimed at the Templar's throat. It might have reached its target, had not Robert seen the attack coming and knew how to block it, or if Malik had not grabbed Altair's other hand and pulled him backwards, preventing the master assassin from being punched in the face.

Now it was Malik whom Robert was holding, both his forearms locked in a vise-like grip as the Frenchman grinned evilly at the three assassins. "It seems you have a good friend here, someone willing to risk his own neck to protect yours, a rare trait in your kind. You know not the things in which you meddle, Assassin." He addressed Altair harshly, glaring straight at him before turning back to his captive. "I spare you only that you may return to your master and deliver a message. The Holy Land is lost to him and his. He should flee now while he has the chance. Stay and all of you will die."

The Templar tightened his grip on Malik's arms, a feat the man had not thought possible, and flung him at some of nearby scaffolding, which crumpled as he crashed through it and the wall behind, both of which collapsed into a pile of debris, blocking the other assassin from sight entirely. While Altair and Kadar stared at the place he had vanished behind Robert saw his chance to finish the two of them off.

"Men, to arms! Kill the Assassins!"

* * *

Writing this really made me see just how much of an asshole Altair was at this point in the game. When I played it the first few times I was too busy playing with the glitches to pay attention to what was being said. That and thinking "wow this game is amazing."

This chapter was a bit annoying because I had to stay to the script for almost all of it, leaving me little to do besides descriptions and thoughts. I hope I didn't do too bad a job though. From here on the story diverts off from the canon plot line, so I should have more control over what happens.

Please tell me what you think, what you liked, what I need to work on, etc.

I should be sewing -_-; I have a con tomorrow, but the plot grabbed me in.

Have a nice day!

MsMonochrome


	2. Hey look chapter 2

Here's chapter 2, I'm giving it to you guys now because I have a con this weekend so I may not get much time to work on this, tragically.

Assassin's creed does not belong to me, it may belong to me in some parallel universe, but there's no way to know that now is there?

* * *

The Templars surged forwards, drawing their blades from their sheaths with the sound of a hundred snakes preparing to strike. Robert was grinning savagely as he surveyed the two assassins; trapped underground, surrounded by foes, it was a wonderful sight. Although his men had their swords out they were waiting for him, their leader, to make the first move. He lunged, his blade a sweeping arc meant to separate head from body.

Altair saw it coming and brought his own sword up to parry the blow, his other arm, hidden blade extended, aimed at the Frenchman's throat. That too was blocked, and the two men faced each other, sizing up his opponent's skills and trying to figure out what they might do next.

Then another voice interrupted them, panicked and desperate. "Altair!" It was Kadar, the master assassin had forgotten he was there momentarily, and the other men had taken advantage of this to target him. He was trapped, his face drained of blood, and Altair knew what he had to do.

Turning away from Robert, he charged towards the Templars, neither of whom had noticed the other assassin had directed his attentions towards them until one of them had a blade stuck in the back of his neck. He fell to the floor, choking on his own blood while his partner and Kadar watched, then the second man had joined the first and Altair's hidden blade was dirty once more.

"Impressive work Assassin, it seems you are capable of caring about others after all. Sadly that does not mean you will leave this Temple alive, I can assure you of that." More men came in through the entrance and strode towards Altair, who took advantage of the noise they made while walking to whisper in Kadar's ear, "I'll draw their attention; you get the treasure, alright? Keep to the shadows and don't make a sound; with luck we may just make it out of here alive."

The master assassin leapt at the soldiers, sword in one hand, his hidden blade gleaming red on the other. Four Templars had joined Robert, many people to entertain, but dead men tell no tales, do they not? A quick movement of his arm sent the sword across a man's throat, where he joined his fellow comrades in death; but Altair paid no attention to him, moving on to the next target instead, who blocked the attack with his own blade. With a twist of his opponent's wrist his sword clattered to the floor, and he had no time to pick it up.

Drawing his short sword he kicked the man between his legs and shoved the blade into his chest, the blood soaking his hands and making them sticky. Two men down, two more, and Robert, to go. A throwing knife lodged itself in one soldier's windpipe, forcing the man to clutch his throat in agony as death overcame him. The next Templar went the same as the other, and then their leader was the only one left to challenge him.

"Must we keep playing this game Assassin? Accept your fate; it will be far less painful if you do."

"I would rather die in combat than surrender to a man like you." Altair spat at the man's feet, emphasizing his point; or at least it would have done so had the noise of clattering rock alerted Robert to what Kadar was doing. The man had made it to where the Ark stood, and was in the process of removing a large orb from its golden surface when his foot had nudged some of the debris surrounding him. The assassin clutched the thing to his chest and tried to back out of sight, but it was too late.

The Templar leader started towards Kadar, sword extended as if it could reach the man ten feet above him. He began climbing the scaffolding and may have actually gotten to the ledge above the entrance had Altair not dragged him down.

"I am your opponent," he reminded the Frenchman, his voice cold. "You have to go through me first."

Robert grimaced and faced the master assassin. "So be it then," he sighed. "I'm surprised you haven't run off to save your own neck by now. Surely you are not the man they call 'Son of None,' he doesn't have feelings, let alone compassion for his comrades." The words were meant to provoke Altair, and provoke him they did.

He lunged forwards, short sword extended, only to have the blow blocked once more. Kadar had made it down to the main floor, and the Templar went after him again, sword raised in an attack meant for cleaving flesh and breaking bone, but it failed to hit his target.

In front of Kadar stood Altair, Robert's blade sunken into his left shoulder, blood drenching his robes and spattering the floor. For a moment there was a stunned silence between the three men, punctuated by the pained breaths of the master assassin. Then he raised his other hand and punched the Frenchman in the face, breaking his nose and sending him backwards into a pillar against which his head smacked.

With their opponent unconscious and the treasure secured Altair worked the sword slowly out of his arm, wincing with every movement he made. "Let me help." Kadar said, sliding it out of the wounded flesh slowly and carefully, ignoring the cries of pain he heard. The cut was deep but narrow, it needed to be cleaned and stitched up, lest it get infected. The man took off his waterskin, withdrew some bandages from his pack, and cut away the assassin's sleeve with a knife, prepared to do whatever was needed right now.

"Just clean and wrap it, we need to get back to Masyaf, we can't afford to waste any time here." Altair's voice was strained but calm, as though it was taking all of his conviction to remain emotionless in the face of so much pain.

"What about my brother? What about Robert?"

"The Templar's wanted him to deliver a message, therefore he's probably alive, and if he has any sense in that head of his he'll have already started off to report back to Al Mualim. As for him, hopefully he will know not to challenge us again. If it turns out he failed to learn this lesson, I will teach him again, and ensure he never forgets it."

"Altair, this really should be sewn shut, otherwise it may get infected." Kadar's examined the wound, his voice held a note of concern, one he used with others who were hurt, but the master assassin knew that it was taking all the man's willpower to stay calm.

"We can do that later, for now we should focus on getting out of here. When we reach a town or shelter we can worry about my arm." Kadar had just finished bandaging the injured limb when Altair started getting to his feet, using his right arm to push himself up off the floor. The man helped him and steadied him so he wouldn't fall over, then he pulled the master assassin's unhurt arm over his own shoulders so he could have an easier time walking.

"Where do we go from here?" Kadar asked after they had left through the pillared doorway and stood inside the room.

"Home," was the only response.

* * *

So, the Solomon's temple stuff is done, now things actually get interesting, sorry if this is taking a bit of time to get started, but it's necessary to the story as a whole.

Also, this will involve some AltairxMalik, but it will stay pretty Pg-13 because I can't/don't want to write anything above that.

Please tell me what you think, what you would like to see, how I can improve this, if I made any spelling/grammatical/factual mistakes, etc.

Thank you for reading and putting up with my fic!

My tumblr is .com if anyone cares and I'm looking for a beta if anyone is interested.

Hasta la pasta!

MsMonochrome


	3. Oh my it's Malik

This chapter is short because I have another one written which is about the same length. Also nobody cares about this stuff it's just filler really and we all want to get to the interesting parts, including me. I've been working on the later stuff a bit before classes and stuff, but once these events are out of the way it should be easier for me.

Assassin's Creed does not belong to me, or does it? (The answer is no)

* * *

The ride back to Masyaf was a blur of blistering heat, sun, screams of soldiers yelling as he passed them at a full gallop; he only stopped so the horse could rest. Malik didn't sleep much at all; he couldn't, not with the memory of what happened still so fresh in his mind. He had wanted to go back in after being thrown from the room in Solomon's Temple, but if Altair and Kadar were unable to make it out, someone needed to report back to Al Mualim, to tell him just what had happened in there. Robert had given him a message to deliver, it was probably the only reason he was still alive today; he was grateful for having escaped with his life, a bit bruised and scraped yes, but still alive.

On the fifth day of travel he arrived in front of the fortress that housed the Assassin Brotherhood, a towering stone structure that overlooked the city below, panting slightly after having practically run there from the stables. Rauf greeted him cheerfully outside the training area, although he was friendly with almost everyone.

"Malik, you have returned!" The man strode over to where he stood and clapped him on the back.

"I have indeed Rauf, safety and peace brother."

"Safety and peace to you as well. I see you are unharmed, does that mean your mission was a success?" The swordmaster inquired, obviously having been told only the bare bones of what they had been sent out to do. Malik didn't know how to respond, as he himself was unsure of what had happened after the things he'd experienced, unsure of whether or not his brother and Altair were even alive.

"I must report to Al Mualim, I will fill you in on the details later, my friend." The assassin headed off towards the fortress doors, passing Abbas on the stairs but neither of them said a word to each other.

The Master was in his library when Malik found him, surrounded by dusty shelves full of assorted books, absorbed in reading a scroll. Al Mualim looked surprised to find him the only man there of the three he had sent out and gestured to the assassin to follow him into his study. Once there he received a piercing stare that seemed to see right through the assassin and show what he was feeling at the time.

"How fared your mission Malik? I trust you have recovered the Templar's treasure?" His voice was calm, but it held traces of unmistakable authority that gave Malik chills. Al Mualim was their leader yes, but that didn't make it any less terrifying to be in the presence of him, especially when one has just failed their mission.

"Not well Master, I am afraid Altair made a mess of things and ignored our Creed." he bowed, trying to hide his inner turmoil, a mixture of regret, anxiety, and irritation at Altair.

"Then how is it that you have come to stand here instead of him?" came Al Mualim's response, as cool and collected as his earlier words, but the underlying disapproval was greater now.

"Robert was there, and he was not alone. Altair went after him, but I stepped between their fight, and in return I was thrown from the temple with a message to give you."

"Are you a messenger for the Templars now Malik? What could he have possibly wanted to tell me that was so important he let an enemy live?"

It was an insult, an implication that he was not worth killing because he proved no threat to them. Instead of responding angrily Malik ignored the jab and proceeded to tell the master just what had happened in Solomon's Temple, including every detail of how badly Altair had acted and concluding with Robert's message and being thrown through the wall. After he finished the only thing Al Mualim said was, "and the Treasure?"

"Gone, most likely." He couldn't look the master in the eyes while he spoke, so instead he talked to his feet.

"What about Altair and Kadar?" Al Mualim's voice was razor sharp now, cutting Malik with every word.

"I do not know what happened to them."

"We both live!" Someone behind them spoke up and after turning around Malik saw Kadar smiling at him, and he couldn't help grinning back at the sight of his brother. Then his noticed how his robes were soaked in blood, most of which had dried into a reddish brown mess that would never come out no matter how many times they were washed. He wanted to ask where the blood had come from, as Kadar himself seemed relatively unharmed, but a single glance told him it would have to wait until later.

Al Mualim looked slightly surprised at the sudden appearance of the other Al-Sayaf sibling, but he was able to mask his emotions in a heartbeat, leaving the brothers to wonder whether it had even happened or not.

"Safety and peace Kadar, it is nice to see you are still alive. What about your mission, were you able to recover the treasure?"

"We were Master, but..." Kadar's face fell, as he seemed to remember something unpleasant that had happened. "Master Altair was seriously injured protecting me before we managed to escape."

"Where is it, show it to me." Al Mualim either hadn't paid attention to anything after 'we were,' or he was simply not bothered by the fact that his best assassin had been wounded. Kadar opened a pack on his belt and withdrew a golden orb from it, which he carried over to the master. The man took it and cradled the thing in both hands, staring at it with the kind of fondness seen in the eyes of a father holding his child for the first time. Averting his eyes seemed a strain, but he managed to dismiss the siblings before returning his attention to the treasure.

* * *

I don't like Al Mualim. There, I said it. I didn't like him from the beginning of the game, and I hated him by the end. He's not a good person, and unlike Altair he doesn't redeem himself, but instead proves he was just the arsehole I thought him to be all along. I didn't realize who Malik was until I saw people posting gifs of him on tumblr and realized he wasn't just some random rude guy in Jerusulem's Bureau, and then I hated myself for not realizing it sooner.

The con I went to was ok, I'm exhausted though. Two cons back to back is no something I want to do again, unless there's no school in between.

Speaking of school, I'm on spring break next week, so I should be able to spend a good chunk of time working on this, whether it's plotting what things are going to happen or actually writing chapters.

Now off to post on Ao3, then put the next chapter on here.

Cheerio!

MsMonochrome


	4. Fighting is bad

Second part of the stuff I'm uploading today :P I could use a nap right now.

Assassin's Creed does not belong to me, although it would make a wonderful birthday gift.

* * *

The brothers retreated to the courtyard where they were unlikely to be overheard, leaning up against the fence that separated one level of grass from the next. Kadar could tell Malik was resisting the urge to know what happened, and eventually the questions came out. "How did you make it out of there alive brother? Where did all that blood come from?"

"Master Altair saved me, Robert and his men wanted to kill me, but he fought them off while I got the treasure. Then Robert came after me himself, and Master Altair stepped in between us; I was not hurt, but Altair, he, he was not so lucky. The sword cut his arm pretty deep, and on the journey home it got infected, even though I treated it to the best of my ability. He is in the infirmary now, but things do not look good."

Kadar felt sick as he recalled the journey back to Masyaf, the fear that had gripped his entire body, partially caused by the Templars, partially for Altair. He had been right about how he should have stitched the wound up as fast as possible, and when they arrived at a place to rest for the night the cut was examined. It had stopped bleeding for the most part, but it was now slightly swollen, and the assassin's skin felt feverish to the touch, signs of an infection setting in. He cleaned it as best as he could before taking a needle and thread to it, making small stitches to bring the skin back together.

Altair gritted his teeth and groaned while Kadar worked, even though the man figured he must be in a terrible amount of pain. Before heading out from the Jerusalem bureau each of them had refilled their injury kits, as getting hurt was a common part of the work they did. Included with the bandages, needles, thread, and other necessities, had been opium; it was addictive yes, but in small doses it was an effective painkiller, and if there was any time to use the stuff it was now.

When he went to check on the wound the next day it had gotten worse, it was red and inflamed around the edges, and Altair definitely had some kind of fever. There weren't any big towns on the route they took, so stopping at a Bureau for treatment wasn't an option, and doctors who didn't know them might ask awkward questions. The only thing Kadar could do was clean the cut, wrap it once more, and pray that it started healing.

When they had finally reached Masyaf, the master assassin was so sick he couldn't stay upright on his horse; instead, he was forced to slump over the saddle in pain only slightly numbed by the opium. Kadar attached a length or rope to the bridle of Altair's horse and the back of his own saddle, so he could steer one steed and the other would follow behind without too much trouble. Upon arriving at the fortress, they too had been greeted by Rauf, who quickly noticed that something was very wrong. Kadar had then been sent to give details of the mission to Al Mualim while he and a novice assassin carried Altair to the infirmary, the man moaning feebly in protest but unable to do anything about it.

"You say Altair saved you?" Malik's voice was hard and distrusting. "The man who compromised our mission by attacking Robert directly instead of staying hidden like he was supposed to?"

"I know it sounds hard to believe brother, but it is true." It was hard to meet his brother's gaze when it was easy to see that Malik still didn't trust Altair. "He abandoned his fight with Robert when I was surrounded by his men; does this sound like a man who has given up on working with others?"

"Kadar, you do not know Altair like I do, he's not a good man like you think he is."

"That may be so, but he's not the awful person you make him out to be either."

"Just what makes you say that? He killed some men. We saw him cut down an innocent man in those tunnels just because he wanted to, what makes it so impossible that he did the same then?" Malik's dark eyes were like two pieces of coal that had just been lit on fire, he was angry with Kadar, but just why he was angry was unknown.

"Because he stepped in front of Robert's blade so I wouldn't get hurt! The reason I delivered the treasure to Al Mualim is because Altair is too sick to even stand on his own!" Kadar couldn't believe it, after all master Altair had done for him in the temple he was still treated like an enemy by his own brother. "You know yourself that he would want to be the one to show off our victory, and yet he's nowhere to be seen, I find that interesting, don't you?"

The truth of his words seemed to hit Malik suddenly as the dark-skinned man began glancing around trying to find the master assassin. Before he could go off and search for him Rauf came up to them, his usual smile gone, his robes spattered with blood.

"What are you two fighting about? I thought you would be celebrating the success of your mission, or sleeping at the very least." The man fiddled with some loose threads at the bottom of his tunic as he spoke, something he had a habit of doing when nervous.

"How is master Altair?" Kadar asked, his voice shaking a bit.

"It doesn't look good I'm afraid, the doctors were debating over whether he needed surgery or not." The swordmaster didn't meet either man's age as he spoke; instead, he focused on the frayed tunic he played with. "It doesn't seem like he is in danger of dying though, which is some comfort to the rest of us."

"He really was wounded then?" Malik seemed taken aback by Rauf's words, not daring to believe Altair had done something decent for once.  
"Yup, he was slashed across his upper arm, and the infection in it is pretty bad."

"So, the invincible Altair is only human after all."

"He was only ever human to begin with, that's what you keep forgetting."

* * *

Next chapter will have the attack on Masyaf, the fight in the city and the trap for the Templars, hopefully there will be time to add a bit about Altair's condition in there too, but I don't think Malik will see him until chapter 6. Wait for me my lovelies!

MsMonochrome


	5. Siege of Masyaf

Yay! New chapter! Fighting! Annoying French guys! Getting closer to actually interesting stuff!

I like interesting stuff.

Note: I do not own Assassin's Creed or its characters, but I enjoy writing stories about them more than I probably should. They have interesting relationships with other characters, and I like psychological things in stories.

* * *

A man clad in the gray robes of a novice ran towards them, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his tan face. "Master Rauf! Master Malik!" His voice was strained with anxiety; was he afraid of something?

"What is it, brother?" The swordmaster asked calmly, looking at the novice with concern.

"The Templars! They have begun attacking the city! Al Mualim says we are to defend the fortress, and the help those who have not escaped yet get out of here. He orders every man to take part." The man's cheeks were flushed, and he stood before them, panting in an effort to regain his lost breath.

"We shall go at once." Rauf replied, his eyes narrowed, muscles stiffened in preparation for the coming battle. "Malik, you coming?"

"Naturally." Malik scoffed, irritated by the swordmaster's need to ask him whether or not he would be fighting. The two men set off towards the entrance back into the fortress, but when they heard two sets of footsteps behind them, and turning around they found Kadar had started to follow behind the messenger.

"Kadar, you were not thinking about joining us, were you?" He didn't want to believe his brother would do such a reckless thing after what he had just been through.

"I want to help protect the Brotherhood. I can fight, let me come with you!"

"You are not ready for such battle, you haven't recieved enough training. Please stay here, where I know you will be safe."

"But I went on the mission with you and Master Altair, does that not prove my usefulness?"

"That mission involved stealth and you were with two fully-trained Assassins who could protect you in case of a fight. This is not the same as it was then, you would be fighting multiple enemies and the others would be too preoccupied to notice if someone were to sneak up on you. You would not be alone here, and I would feel better knowing you were here instead of out there." Malik felt bad for telling his brother not to fight, but the fear that had only recently left his body, the tension that came with not knowing if Kadar was still alive.

Rauf seemed to sense the discord between the two siblings, as he raised a hand to clap both of them on the back and whispered so only the three of them could hear. "I know something you would be perfect for helping with, Kadar. Just in case we have to withdraw and the Templars come up to the gate, we set up a trap some time ago, but getting to it requires some talent. With your skill for climbing and navigating across tricky areas you should manage it in no time. Wait up there until someone gives you the signal, as Robert no doubt will want to confront us directly. Go up to the eagle point and someone there will fill you in on what to do next."

Kadar seemed pleased at having a job to do and rushed off to the tower, leaving a very relieved Malik and a grinning Rauf to continue their rush to the populated city below. They were met on the way by several soldiers who appeared to have cut down any person who stood in their way. Each man already carried a blade, but neither of them expected the speed or techniques the Assassins had been trained to master, earning them a fast trip to their graves. The Assassins were forced to cut down several more enemies before they reached the center of the fighting, whereupon they were pleased to see their brothers were handling the Templars with surprisingly little effort.

A woman shrieked nearby as a man clad in the red cross of the Templar Order strode towards her and she struggled to shield a wriggling infant from harm before the warrior fell to the ground, blood blossoming out from a stab to the heart. She looked up to see Rauf wiping his sword off on the dead man's robes and seemed to decide that now was a pretty good time to run away from all the people with weapons.

The swordmaster turned around and found a new target, this time slitting the man's throat before moving on to the next victim. Malik was using a combination of his sword and hidden blade to take down foes, but he would always ask civilians if they were alright before letting them flee the scene. With them helping out the chaos in the square was thinned out considerably and some of their men were able to scout a bit, searching to see where the Templars were now. Finally it was deemed that the situation was no longer severe and that most of the Assassins could return to the fortress and prepare for whatever happened next.

* * *

Kadar waited in the shade of the watchtower he was positioned at, tracking the sun's slow movement across the sky and wondering what was going on everywhere else. While the tower had a good view of the city and the fortress as well, it didn't tell him how things were doing, and since the route to the tower was so tricky, even more so now that he'd traveled across it, no one was likely to bring him any news. He would just have to continue sitting here until someone gave the signal for him to launch the trap: a pile of logs that would spill out like water at the falls onto anyone unlucky enough to stand beneath it at the time of release.

Templars, they would be the one these fell upon. They deserved whatever they had coming to them, up to each individual splinter they recieved. How dare they do such unforgivable things to people! How dare they force others to submit to their cruel ways! How dare they harm Master Altair like they had in Solomon's Temple! Kadar would punish them for their actions, and part of him couldn't wait to do so.

White robed figures became visible on the path to the fortress, the Assassins were coming back, the fighting down there must have stopped. On the horizon though, he could see a mass of red growing larger. It had to be Robert and the rest of his men, coming to challenge the Brotherhood directly. Who else would make such a bold display in a place like this? The location of their fortress was known to very few people, just those in the Brotherhood, or those who associated with them.

It confused Kadar slightly as to how Robert had found them though, as tucked away as they were. It hit him then, like he had recieved a slap to the face. _Altair's injury!_ It must have left some kind of blood trail even after he had sewn it shut. _He_ was the one responsible for leading the Templars to their home, it was all _his_ fault they were here!

The Assassins sped inside the gate before it was closed completely, and Kadar was pleased to see that his brother and Rauf were indeed among them, instead of lying on the ground and bleeding to death. Behind them came the sea of men, each clad in armor bearing the red cross of the Templars, sitting astride a horse and brandishing a shining blade in their hands.

At the front of the pack was a man whom Kadar could have lived without seeing ever again. Robert de Sable, the personification of all that was evil and wrong in the world. His helm was off and his bald head shone in the light of the setting sun.

"Heretic!" He exclaimed, nearly spitting with rage. "Return what you have stolen from me!"

In contrast to the Frenchman's barely restrained anger, Al Mualim was the picture of calm indifference, seemingly unaffected by the poisonous words attacking him. "You've no claim to it Robert! Take yourself from here before I'm forced to thin your ranks further!"

"You play a dangerous game!" Came the furious response.

"I assure you this is no game!"

"So be it!" Exclaimed Robert, a different, more excited tone to his voice. "Bring forth the hostage!"

From the ocean of red came a small, gray-cloaked figure, their arms held behind their head. The man restraining him removed his sword from the sheath, still clutching the novice's hands in one of his own, and thrust the blade through their chest, blood staining their robes before they were tossed to the ground.

"Your village lays in ruins and your stores are hardly endless! How long before your fortress crumbles from within? How disciplined will your men remain, when the wells run dry and their food is gone?" The lone death of a novice seemed to make the Frenchman believe victory was close at hand for some reason.

"My men do not fear death, Robert! They welcome it, and the rewards it brings!" Al Mualim seemed unchanged in his calm manner, acting as though the threats were those of a mere child.

"Good! Then they shall have it all around!" Robert shouted, his voice a mix of fury and contempt.

It was then that Kadar spotted one of the men standing beside Al Mualim making a gesture with one hand, and he realized the time to release the trap was now. Drawing his blade he hacked at the wood holding the wood in place and hurriedly backed away so as not to be hit by any splinters that came flying up at him.

From below came the sound of men and horses screaming as they tried to avoid the falling logs, the clashing of wood against wood and wood against rock, and the voice of one very annoyed Frenchman telling his men to retreat.

The Templars were leaving. The attack was over. Masyaf was calm once more.

For now.

* * *

More pre-scripted text! Yay! I love that stuff!

In all seriousness though I don't think that the change I made would affect the conversation between Al Mualim and Robert at all. That's why I kept it as is. The only alteration I made was to make Malik fight and Kadar set off the trap. I figured, for the reasons I gave above, it made more sense for Kadar not to fight, and I also guessed Malik wouldn't want to risk losing him again.

Next chapter has Altair in it! I can't wait, this is where things start to get interesting. I just feel bad it has taken so long to get there.

I wrote this stuff all today, most of it after class where I made apple strudel, made more irritating by how my partner wrecked the dough and we had to remake it.

I need to post this on Ao3, then go to bed.

Please review and tell me what you think of this so I can make it awesome.

Sweet dreams!

MsMonochrome


	6. Six chapters already?

I can't think of anything to put up here...

Assassin's Creed does not belong to me and most likely never will.

* * *

The following morning was one of the most unpleasant experiences Altair had ever had to deal with; and he'd been through a lot of shitty things in his 25 years of life. He had woken up in the infirmary of the Assassin fortress without any memories to tell him just how he had gotten from Jerusalem to Masyaf so quickly. His head throbbed, as though someone were slamming a hammer into it repeatedly, making a pounding noise in his ears.

It felt as though he were sick with the flu again; something that hadn't happened to him since he was a boy. Since he had become an Assassin, whose body is the major factor in completing missions, he had learned that failure to keep oneself healthy usually led to foolish mistakes, which could end up compromising the Brotherhood.

His limbs felt heavy, as did his eyelids, so he closed them again; he wanted to lie here forever, or at least until he didn't feel so miserable. Through his closed eyes he could tell it was daytime and that sunlight was pouring in through the windows nearby, not unpleasantly though, the warmth felt nice on his battered face. What happened to me? He wondered, his mind hazy from pain and some kind of drug they had given him. The last thing I remember was Solomon's Temple.

He recalled the interaction between himself and Robert, how Malik had intervened between them and then was thrown through a wall. He could remember protecting Kadar the first time, sending him off to get the treasure while he, Altair held the men's attentions. They had been successful, hadn't they? If they hadn't there was no way he would be here right now, no reason for the Templars to let him live. Yes, the mission had been a success, but Kadar, holding the strange golden ball, had ended up attracting the Frenchman's attention, and Altair had been forced to throw himself in the path of the blade.

His arm! Was it ok? The cut had been so deep and so painful, agonizingly so when it had been stitched up, but the wound had only gotten worse it seemed, and no matter how hard Kadar had tried, the man didn't have the power to heal it completely. The limb felt fine now though, except for some throbbing where the blade had bit into his skin, but he could wiggle his fingers with no problem, no pain whatsoever. Good, he thought, I can't waste my time lying in bed while Robert is still out there causing trouble.

He wanted to sit up, to stretch his sore muscles and work out any kinks they may have acquired over the unknown period of time he had been resting for. Upon opening his eyes once more and starting to shift his weight a doctor came over, their wrinkled face bore even more lines than it usually did because of the concerned look he was giving Altair.

"Careful now brother, that was a serious injury you received, and it hasn't healed fully yet."

I just want to sit up." The master Assassin replied, his voice hoarse, and his throat strangely sore. "And I would like some water."

The old man nodded while helping Altair straighten up onto some cushions he could lean on, it was surprising how much strength the doctor had, but he must have been an Assassin too at some time.. The mat he lay upon was stained slightly red, but it was comfortable for its small size, positioned near the window so he could look out upon Masyaf if he pleased.

The pounding in his head hadnt lessened much, if anything it seems whatever they had given him had worn off and all his aches would come back full force. He glanced down at his wounded arm briefly before returning his gaze to the view outside.

Wait a second-

Looking back down at the injured limb he found himself suddenly hyperventilating, cold sweat dripping down his back, and the pain in his head felt even stronger than it had before. He wanted to scream, to exclaim in horror, to express just how truly miserable he felt at the moment. When the doctor came back followed others dressed like him Altair realized that he must have done something, but his mind was reeling and all he could think was that something was horribly, terribly wrong.

Someone forced a cloth over his mouth and he inhaled a sickly sweet scent for a few seconds before he felt himself falling over, his eyes closing, and everything went black.

* * *

The room was empty save for Altair and the doctor looking after him; who seemed to be rewrapping a wound on his arm. When the man noticed Malik standing in the doorway he looked back at the assassin in the bed, finished whatever it was he was doing, and rose to his feet. "Safety and peace brother. Should I leave you two alone to talk?" He asked, his voice concerned. Just what had happened in that temple?

"If you please, thank you brother." Malik replied as he entered the room, and when the man stepped away from the bed he saw the reason why everyone avoided talking about what had happened to the master assassin after he had gone into the infirmary.

Altair's arm was gone, the left one from just below the shoulder, leaving a short stump behind wrapped in bandages tinged pink, which looped around his torso so they would stay in place. The man's face was contorted in pain, although it was obvious he was trying to hide how he felt.

His brother had told Malik that the younger man had been wounded while protecting him. If the blow that struck the assassin was strong enough to make him lose a limb, was it actually possible that if Altair had not stepped in, his brother might not be here today?  
Some portion of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, and the assassin, if he even could he even be an assassin anymore, spoke up, tearing Malik from his thoughts.  
"I don't need your pity. If that's all you came here for you can just turn around and leave right now." Altair's voice was hoarse, Malik had heard the screams piercing through the fortress's stone walls last night, and cold as stone.

"Forgive me, my brother," Malik murmured, approaching the bed slowly. "I was not expecting to see you in this state."

The master assassin turned to glare at him, fire burning in those golden eyes of him for a moment, then it died and they returned to their normal color, albeit glassy and somewhat lifeless. "I was not expecting to be in this state when I woke up earlier. It seems neither of us knew what to expect."

There was silence between the two men for several seconds, then Malik spoke up, his eyes fixed upon some point on the ground, unable to meet Altair's eyes. "Thank you for saving Kadar, he would be dead if not for you."

"Funny, I thought I was just an arrogant fool who disregarded rules unless they suited me." The tone of his voice was neutral, but the words he chose showed that he had not forgotten how Malik had treated him in the Temple. He had been so rude to Altair, and the man had given up an arm to save Kadar; if he hadn't acted so rashly back then, overcome by jealousy as he had been, would all of this not have happened?"

"I'm sorry for what I said to you, and what they caused you to lose." The older man replied and began walking towards the infirmary's door, but stopped and turned around after he heard Altair call out to him.

"Malik..." he said, staring down at his remaining hand sadly. "I am to become the Rafiq of Jerusalem; the current Dai wishes to retire his post, so he will train me to take over for him."

At first Malik wasn't sure he had heard the man correctly. Altair, a Rafiq? Never in a million years would he have thought that might happen. Altair lived for fighting, the feeling of adrenaline that came in the heat of battle, the sound of blade against blade, and sensation of victory when it was all over. He was not the type of man to sit still at a desk and do paperwork all day; he wasn't particularly good at reading or writing, hell, his handwriting was almost illegible! There was no logical reason for such an assignment, except maybe as a way to lure Robert out into the open.

The Templar leader had fought with Altair several times, and if he heard that the Eagle of Masyaf had lost one of his wings he would waste no time in ending his enemy's life, preventing him from sabotaging Robert's plans once and for all. Had the once-master Assassin really become so useless to the Brotherhood that the only job he could do was act as bait? Surely Al Mualim wasn't that cruel, Altair had been the Master's favorite after all. Malik was just misunderstanding how things were right now, that was all.

"You have nothing to say to me?" Altair murmured, his hand over the stump where his left arm used to be. "I guess a cripple cannot be an Assassin after all. I guessed if anyone would have told me otherwise it would have been you."

"Altair! You are not a cripple! Stop feeling sorry for yourself; it doesn't do any good in the end." Malik glared down at the younger man, who glared right back at him.

"Like you would know anything about how I feel right now? You have no right to yell at me, not after what I did for you!" The man's voice was rough, and his conversation with Malik was not helping things.

"And just what have you done for me, Altair? What makes you think I owe you anything!"  
"I saved your fucking brother you moron! He would be dead if not for me, and I would still have two hands to hit you with. Does that answer your question?"

Malik had begun to yell back, but just then the old doctor came in, having to raise his voice to be heard over those of the two men. "Settle down both of you! I have a patient to look after and if you don't shut up I will be forced to throw you out of this infirmary this instant."

"Don't bother," the older man muttered, turning on his heel and storming out the door. "Talking to this idiot is bad for my own health."

* * *

First things first: the whole thing where Altair could feel his arm, even though it wasn't actually there, is known as a phantom limb. It happens to people who have had an arm or leg amputated, and because the brain still senses out signals to it it feels like the limb is still there, and it can even feel pain sometimes. Psychology is neat.

I did some looking into about the differences between a Rafiq and a Dai, and a Rafiq is a position below that of a Dai's but they both do similar jobs. A Dai is also a higher rank than that of a master Assassin. Neat huh?

I want to get to stuff even more interesting than this. I want to make the characters cry, and hold each other, and comfort each other because they're so confused about how they feel. That sounded more sinister than meant it to be... Ignore me.

I don't have school next week, thank goodness, so writing is a definite thing I will be doing.

I can't think of more to write...

Seeya in the next chapter!

MsMonochrome


	7. Missions and Meltdowns

I don't have much to say right now, except "New chapter, yay!"

Oh yeah, Assassin's Creed does not belong to me at the moment

* * *

The following day Malik was outdoors practicing with his throwing knives when Kadar came rushing up to him, hay stuck in his hair and a wide grin covering his face. "Brother! Amazing news! Al Mualim has summoned us to speak with him! I think we're going to get another mission!"

Despite his brother's excitement Malik felt nervous about the sudden interest the Master had taken in them. Yes, Malik himself was one of the best Assassins in the Brotherhood, but for Al Mualim to personally give out a mission to someone like Kadar? As much as he loved his brother, that wasn't what usually happened; and the only reason Malik could see for the change was the recent events of Solomon's Temple, and the wounded man in the infirmary below.

Thinking of Altair only made him angry, the man was so immature at times, overreacting to things that didn't require further complications, refusing to follow orders because "his way was better." It was a wonder that all three of them hadn't been killed because of his arrogance, and in a way the former Assassin had deserved that injury. If he hadn't ignored the Creed, if he had listened to Malik, he might still have both hands right now.

He didn't mention any of these things running through his mind to his brother; Kadar would only blame himself for what happened to Altair, even thought that was hardly the case. It had annoyed him for years, how Kadar worshipped that Son of None, like the man could do no wrong, and every word that came out of his mouth was law. No matter how hard Malik tried he couldn't get his brother to see things as they were.

Al Mualim's office was easily the nicest room in the fortress, a large, spacious place with a window overlooking Masyaf, bookshelves lining the walls, cushions and pillows on the floor, and a fresh breeze passing through. The Master himself was seated in a comfortable chair behind a large desk made from some dark wood, head resting upon his clasped hands as he stared at the brothers with that piercing stare he always had.

"I'm pleased to see you two weren't hurt during your last mission." Al Mualim's voice was calm, as usual, but there's a strangeness hidden inside the calm, an underlying rage he's struggling to keep under control. "During these troubling times we need all the able hands we can get, and any time recovering from an injury or sickness is time that could be used for bringing about peace."

Malik stiffened where he stood, realizing that yes, the Master was indeed singling Altair out for his actions and using him as an example for what Assassin's shouldn't do, even though he had only been back in Masyaf for a few days. From favorite to forgotten in an instant; how funny things were.

"What would you have us do, Al Mualim?" Kadar asked politely, snapping the older brother out of his thoughts. _Why can't I stop thinking about him?_

"I'm giving you each a job, one that you each should be able to accomplish with ease but needs doing regardless. Kadar, we have a traitor in our midst, one who opened the gates of Masyaf and allowed those Templars to find us, you are to discover who he is and bring him back to me, so I can deal with him. Malik, a man named Tamir is currently in Damascus, he runs a black market and deals weapons to Crusaders and Saracens alike; find him, and kill him. That is all. You may go now."

It was hard to hide his relief that his brother wasn't given a tough mission to do, he had a lot of training to do before he'd be able to do something like take out Tamir alone, and to risk Kadar's safety when there were plenty of other Assassin's capable of doing the task was sheer lunacy.

He packed fairly light for his trip to Damascus; the town was only a day's ride away and once there he could use the bureau to get food or more throwing knives. As an Assassin you had to travel as light as possible because any extra weight in a fight means you're that much closer to losing. Before setting off Malik wanted to say goodbye to his brother, but Kadar was not at the training grounds, nor the library, nor any of the other places he usually could be found at. The older man was starting to worry that he'd gone off on his mission already when he approached the infirmary doors just as Kadar left them.

The two brothers stared at each other in confusion for a few seconds before Malik realized that he had better break the silence or nothing would happen. "I was looking for you," he murmured in a quiet voice. "I'm about to leave for Damascus, and I just wanted to wish you luck on your mission, especially since you won't have me to keep you from getting into trouble."

"I think I can handle this sort of thing without your help, your concern is touching though." Kadar smiled and clapped his brother on the back before whispering in his ear in a voice so quiet it was almost nonexistent. "Are you going to say goodbye to Altair before you leave?"

Malik grimaced, irritated by the question, and did not answer.

"Come on brother, you two are best friends, or at least you used to be. You don't have to say much, but just talking to him a little should cheer him up."  
"The reason we are no longer best friends is that he developed a fondness for praise and a disregard for rules; both of which got him to where he is now, a product of his own poisons. I already thanked him for saving you, Kadar; my debt to him is paid."

Kadar stared at him, his eyes gazing at Malik in a way that seemed to say: "Seriously? You're seriously going to act that way right now?"

"Just humor me alright, and then you can go." Suddenly Malik was being shoved by his brother into the infirmary, the door slamming shut behind him. He was trapped in here with Altair, fantastic. Just fantastic.

Silence filled the room after that, and Malik slowly turned around, bracing himself for whatever Altair might throw at him. Instead he found the injured man propped up on pillows reading a book, which he seemed to have some difficulty doing one handed. He kept trying to bring the book closer to his face, but by doing so he was unable to turn the pages. In the end he was forced to lay the book on his lap in order to actually read it, and his irritation could be heard in harsh mutterings under his breath. After several minutes went by with neither man saying a word to the other the former Assassin finally spoke up.

"Are you going to say anything, or will you just stand there and stare at me like I'm some kind of freak now?" He sounded angry, but he did not look at Malik, choosing to continue reading his book instead.

"It was more the fact that you are reading that surprised me, I do not believe I can recall a time when you have done so voluntarily. Forgive me for being left speechless by your strange actions." It was hard to keep a note of sarcasm out of his voice as he spoke, as books had never been a thing Altair had ever shown interest in until now.

"Your brother gave this to me just now; it's about the history of our Brotherhood."

"I've read it, yes."

"He thought it might be valuable for me to learn more about our order, as information will be important in my new position." The former Assassin seemed to acknowledge that he did, in fact, have a visitor, and added. "What did Kadar ask you to do?"

"How did you know he-?" Malik started to say, but he was cut off.

"You've been here all this time and you've never noticed that you two are actually quite loud when you disagree about something? I find that amazing myself." Altair smirked back at the older man, managing to infuriate him even in his injured state.

"He wanted me to talk to you before I leave for Damascus on my next mission. He seemed to think you were lonely or something. I tried telling him that you actually can't feel anything because the part of your head that has emotions was taken over by arrogance, but he wouldn't li-"

Slam! The book was snapped shut and thrown aside in an instant, leaving Altair glaring daggers at Malik, infuriated by what the older man had just said. It felt good, to still have the ability to make such a dangerous person so incensed.

"You know what Malik? So what if I am lonely in here? What do you care? You have your rank, you have your brother, and you have both your arms! What the hell do you have to be unhappy about? You have nothing, nothing at all to complain about! So I would appreciate if you would just shut your damn mouth and leave me alone with my pride, because it's the one thing I have left!"

With that the former Assassin rolled over onto his unhurt arm so that his back was facing Malik and ignored the man once more.

* * *

I was going to save Altair's little outburst for the bureau, but I decided that it fit in here pretty well. Hurray for drama and character development! Something interesting is finally happening! Unfortunately the next chapter will have more filler stuff, by which I mean Malik and Altair don't interact with each other at all, and then I'll send both of them off to Jerusalem for a therapy session in which shit goes down.

Can you tell I want to get to the drama? I do, drama and character development and romance.

Still looking for a beta reader, my tumblr is ms-monochrome if anyone wants to watch me post weird crap...

That's about it

Farewell dear readers!

MsMonochrome


	8. Nothing really happens sorry

This is basically a filler chapter, not really anything interesting here, but still important to the overall story.

I do not own Assassin's Creed and I'm too tired to make up something witty

* * *

Damascus had not changed much since his last trip here, it was still hot and sticky, with the odor of too many people who had not bathed recently in too small an area. The streets were crowded with merchants, shoppers, people just passing through, and soldiers looking to pick a fight with anyone who dared bump into them. Friends called out to one another, their voices mingling with shouts advertising various goods and the murmurs of those he passed by. It was not a place Malik would ever choose to live in, and he was glad that his missions here were short and infrequent so he didn't have to visit often.

After a day of travel in the sun it was nice to arrive at the bureau where he could splash water on his face, breathe in the scent of burning incense, and rest for a bit on the cushions laid out for anyone to use. The Dai of Damascus greeted him with a smile as he entered the main room. "Safety and peace brother, what brings you here?

"Safety and peace to you as well. I've been sent here to deal with Tamir; what can you tell me about him?" The Assassin asked politely, removing his cowl and wiping sweat from his brow.

The Dai obliged cheerfully. "I suggest looking around the poor district; some of Tamir's men have been spotted around there lately. I've heard one of them keeps visiting that spice merchant from Acre, and that a few others have gathered at the north garden recently. Is that enough information to go on?"  
"More than enough brother." Malik replied, and was about to head off to act on the leads, but he was stopped by a sudden thought. Addressing the Dai once more he asked: "how do you like your position here?"

"This is an odd question for you to ask, have you considered becoming a Rafiq when you retire from being an Assassin?"

"Not really, no." The Assassin sighed, unable to meet the man's eyes. "You know Altair right?"

"How could I not? Such an arrogant man, I have never met anyone like him. Yes, he is an amazingly skilled Assassin for his age, but his inability to follow instructions will no doubt be his downfall someday." The Dai sounded as if he had given a great deal of thought to the subject of the former Assassin.

"His downfall has already happened," Malik replied. "He and I were working together on a mission when he broke the Creed and lost his arm because of it. Apparently Al Mualim thinks he's been punished enough and he is to become a Rafiq in Jerusalem now."

"Altair, a Rafiq? Why would the Master make such a decision? That man is about as fit to do my job as I am to do his. Al Mualim must be getting foolish in his old age."

"That's why I brought up the subject; I wanted to see your view of the situation. I also see it as an odd choice to make, but before I left Altair was actually reading without having been forced to. Maybe this could be good for him after all."

"It's hard to say, but knowing that man's pride it's unlikely that he'll give up without a fight." The Dai ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I suggest you start gathering information, you only have a few hours of daylight left."

* * *

Altair was bored.

Very, very bored.

Exceedingly bored you could even say.

One may go so far as to say very, very, immensely, really, truly, thoroughly, and totally bored of sitting in bed while his arm healed.

It had been a week since returning to Masyaf and yet ever time he attempted to haul himself up so he could walk around, a doctor would just so happen to be outside the infirmary. Said doctor would then proceed to lecture him about just why he was in no state to be up and about at the time before practically forcing him back down onto the sleeping mat with some superhuman strength that didn't show itself on their physical body.

Tonight was different though, because Altair had managed to talk Kadar into wheeling a cart of hay underneath one of the infirmary windows. Even missing one arm he knew he could do a leap of faith from this height, it was easy. Or so he had thought, but when it came to actually jumping out the window he found himself unable to move from it, his one arm shaking slightly where it rested on the frame.

_What am I so afraid of?_ He wondered, staring down at the cart below him. _I've done this hundreds of times, so why can't I do it now?_

**_You don't want to hurt yourself again_. **A part of his brain answered back.** _You're already incapable of being an Assassin anymore, and you can't risk being unable to do other things as well._**

_That's not true, I'm confident that I won't hurt myself. It's just a simple leap of faith, and I've jumped off higher places before._

**_Can you even do a leap of faith anymore? Or was that another skill you lost the ability to do? The great eagle of Masyaf is flightless now, how ironic._**

_I'm not flightless, I can still do it!_

**_Prove it then. Jump_.**

He steadied himself on the windowsill, bending his knees forward in preparation, and then he leapt forward. The movements were instinctive, and he found himself in the hay so suddenly, having no real memory of the fall itself. His body felt lighter than it had all week, he had been triumphant, he could still do a leap of faith, it was the greatest thing to happen to him in a while.

"You did it Master Altair!" An excited whisper sounded from nearby, and he turned to see Kadar standing there, hidden in the shade of the fortress, practically invisible in the dark clothes he wore. "Are you cold? I brought a tunic if you are."

The former Assassin nodded, struggling to free himself from the cart and the hay trapping him. He honestly hadn't expected for the night to be so chilly, it wasn't normally this cold at this time of year, and when added to the humidity already present in the air it felt especially unpleasant against Altair's bare skin, as though it were freezing over. Even after he had managed to pull the shirt on, a feat that had taken quite a bit of time as he refused to let Kadar help, the night itself felt wrong somehow.

"What's wrong?" Kadar asked, sounding concerned. "Does your arm hurt? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, he replied, not wanting to worry the man anymore than he already had." I just got a chill, that's all." Altair stared up at the fortress, its white stone walls making a sharp contrast to the darkness of the night sky. He walked forwards and grasped a handhold in the rock, searching for places for his feet before grasping for another crack farther up.

"Wait, what are you doing Master Altair? I don't think you should be climbing in your state." Kadar seemed even more worried now, there goes that plan the former Assassin thought briefly.

"I'm fine; if I fall I'll just land in the hay." It was true, the cart of hay was below him as he climbed, a challenging exercise with only one arm. To make up for that Altair seemed to be taking extra care with his feet, making sure that the places he stood would hold his weight as he grasped for a new ledge. In one tricky part, he used his injured shoulder to hold himself in place, wedging it into a large crack as he scrabbled for purchase in the rock. Eventually seemed to decide that he'd had enough fun for one night and pushed himself off the wall into the hay, choosing to lie there in the soft pile of grass rather than get out immediately.

He was exhausted, doing something so involved after a week of bed rest probably hadn't been the wisest decision, but it felt great knowing that despite what had happened to him he wasn't completely useless.

"Master Altair?" Kadar's voice sounded as if it were far away. "You're bleeding again."

"The price of victory," he muttered, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

There we go

The next chapter will be better I swear, it will take place in the Jerusalem bureau, so look forward to it.

Get some sleep

MsMonochrome


	9. In the bureau

Yaaaaay new chapter. My laptop is misbehaving again just FYI, but I do a lot of my writing on my tablet, so it's not a huge deal for you guys.

Assassin's creed does not belong to me but that won't stop me from writing about it.

* * *

It felt nice to arrive at the roof of the bureau without having been spotted by any guards. Yes, it should be almost instinctive for a high-ranked Assassin like Malik, but there had been more Templar soldiers around lately, and they were quick to call attention to any person in white robes being where they shouldn't. As he dropped lightly into the garden through the hole in the lattice the Assassin saw he was not the only one with business in Jerusalem, someone else, a novice by the looks of their robes.

"Safety and peace brother." The man greeted Malik upon seeing him, although he made no effort to rise up from the cushions he rested upon.

"The same to you," the older man said, glancing into the main room of the bureau only to find it empty. "The Rafiq is not here?" He asked in confusion.

"He had to run out for something, but he should be back shortly. Sit and relax for a bit, are you thirsty?"

Before Malik had the chance to answer he heard the sound of a door opening, realized that the Rafiq must have returned, and turned back around to greet him, only to see a shockingly familiar face.

Altair.

The Rafiq was Altair.

How could he have forgotten this? It had been such a strange notion at the time, but it had been well over a month since the two men had last seen each other. With one less Assassin to do missions Malik had been kept busy making up for it, and in doing so he had essentially forgotten about the events of Solomon's Temple, or how Altair was the one no longer completing contracts.

Upon seeing his comrade again Malik was left speechless, and instead of saying anything his eyes took in the man's change in appearance since they had last spoken. There were dark purple shadows under his eyes and a tired, dead look in the eyes themselves, causing him to look several years older than he was. His hair had grown longer by an inch or so, curling slightly at the ends, several days worth of stubble coated his chin, making the new scars stand out in addition to the bruises and cuts on his face and neck.

"Safety and peace Malik. It's been a while."

Before he had a chance to speak the novice rose to his feet and held out a feather stained with blood to Altair, who had to put down the scrolls he had been carrying to accept it. "How did it go?" The Rafiq asked calmly.

"No problems at all, thank you for your information. It was very useful." The man thanked Altair before turning around and climbing out of the bureau, leaving it empty save for Malik

There was silence for several awkward seconds before the Rafiq addressed the Assassin. "I find it interesting that the few times I've seen you recently have both involved you staring at me as though I'm something you've never seen before." His voice was still calm, there was a hint of irritation in it, but where the confident, arrogant Altair of the past might have responded angrily or snidely, the man before him seemed relatively unfazed by Malik's actions. _Just what has happened to you since we last spoke?_ He wondered, somewhat concerned by what he was seeing.

"Forgive me brother." He replied, not wanting to look his comrade in the eye. "I was-"

"You didn't know what to say, right?" Altair had walked over to the bureau counter and was placing the bloody feather into a box. "You've had trouble dealing with awkward situations for a while now. It's nice to see that you haven't changed much."

"I wish I could say the same for you. Have you been shaving with a throwing knife?"  
Altair, having finished his task and standing up again, averted his gaze from Malik and didn't respond.

"Please tell me that isn't the case; you can't be that stupid." The Assassin felt a familiar headache, one that he had not experienced in over a month, building in his head.  
"So what if I have, there are around fifty of those things here." The Rafiq answered, a slight blush on his bruised cheeks.

"You are an idiot."

"What business have you here Malik? I'm assuming you didn't come all the way out here just to insult the crippled man, am I right?"

He felt slightly ashamed of himself upon hearing those words. Here he was, an Assassin with a mission to complete, teasing Altair, who probably would do anything to regain his former rank even for a day. Things had changed between the two men, that much was obvious, and the person before him had suffered greatly in that time. Yes, he had technically deserved the punishment for his actions in Solomon's Temple, but Malik had been partially at fault as well, letting his jealously and irritation get the best of his judgement. Their entire team could have been killed, and yet only one person had really been affected.

"Where did you get those wounds?" The Assassin asked, referring to the bruises on the Rafiq's face.

Altair bit his lip, eyes on the floor. "It is nothing. What is your mission?"

"It is not nothing! What have you been doing?"

There was a tense silence between them, and the younger man answered in a quiet voice. "Some people find it fun to harass those who cannot fight back. I am such a person, I cannot fight them, not without blowing my cover, so..." he didn't finish the sentence.

Malik found himself taken aback by what he heard. "Altair, people are hurting you?"  
"A group of guards, yes. They know that no one will stand up to them," he sighed before staring the Assassin straight in the eye. "If you're not going to tell me what you're here for I cannot give you a feather. Meanwhile I actually have work to do, so if you don't mind leaving me alone, I would appreciate it greatly."

He then began unrolling the scrolls he had brought with him, placing a piece of polished stone on one end to hold them open while he read the contents, ignoring Malik completely.

"Altair..." The man started to say, but with a glare from the Rafiq he closed his mouth and went back into the garden, feeling uneasy from the encounter.

* * *

Malik awoke sometime later, not knowing what had roused him from his sleep. The sun had nearly finished it's descent below the horizon judging by the dark pink sky visible through the closed lattice above him. Apparently Altair had shut it while the Assassin had been asleep, a sign that he did know a bit about what his job as Rafiq entailed. He rose to his feet, stretching because of the inactivity, and wondered what it was that had woken him. Striding over to the entrance of the main room he found an interesting sight inside.

There on the counter, fast asleep, was Altair, his scrolls rolled up once more and set aside, his head resting on his arm. On the floor was the stone that had been used as a paperweight, probably knocked off the desk due to a muscle spasm or something similar. In sleep the man appeared younger than he had during the day, but he still looked unhealthy, and up close it was easy to see that he had lost weight.

His hair covered his eyes a bit and Malik found himself brushing it off his face, surprised by how soft it was. Considering how the rest of the Rafiq looked it was natural to assume that he was not taking care of his hair in addition to everything else; instead the dark brown locks seemed to be the only part of him in somewhat decent condition. He bent over the sleeping figure and took one of the curls between his fingers, rubbing it gently. The Assassin couldn't recall ever seeing Altair with hair this long, not since they were children at least, had it been curly back then too?

A noise somewhere between a grunt and a moan came from the man below him and Malik immediately stepped away from him, recalling how Altair had been in the past. He'd always been grouchy upon first waking up, quicker to snap at others than he usually was, sometimes he would even lash out at whoever was trying to get him out of bed. Now, like nearly everything he'd seen within the last day, it was like the person before him was a stranger wearing his old friend's face.

"What do you want?" The Rafiq asked groggily, not lifting his head from where it rested. The Assassin said nothing, hardly daring to breathe so as to not reveal that he had been doing anything out of the ordinary.

"Look, Malik," Altair's voice was muffled by his sleeve, but the man still refused to move. "I know it's you, you were the only one here when I closed the lattice, and even though I am no longer an Assassin like you, please don't insult me by thinking that by losing my arm I've gotten too stupid to not notice who is inside my own bureau." He pushed himself into a semi-upright position, head resting on his remaining fist, and stared at Malik with those dead eyes.

"I'm sorry brother," Malik began before Altair interrupted him. "Enough with the apologies, all you've done since Solomon's Temple is apologize or insult me, isn't there a middle ground? Can you tell me why you find it so important to keep saying the same things?"

The Assassin felt a wave of shame wash over him once more, he didn't have an explanation for his actions; at least not one that would make up for them. He turned around and began to head back to the safety of the garden so he might do some nighttime free running, but Altair's voice made him stop.

"It's locked; you of all people should know that. If you really are so desperate to avoid talking to me there's no need to pretend to be asleep anymore," the younger man pulled open a door set in the wall behind the bureau counter. "Goodnight Malik, and if you continue with this behavior then Talal will soon leave Jerusalem, alive and continuing to profit from his slave trade. What will become of you after that? The man who failed to kill him because he couldn't talk to the Rafiq? I never thought you were that type of Assassin." The door closed behind Altair, leaving Malik alone with his thoughts.

He didn't get a wink of sleep the rest of the night.

* * *

The whole using a throwing knife as a razor for shaving comes from "Close Shave" by aoigensou on Ao3, I thought it might be neat to throw a reference in there.

Character development! Yay!

My tumblr is ms-monochrome, and I need sleep

MsM


	10. Chapter 10? Holy crap

Holy crap 10 chapters already? Wow. That's an achievement.

Also romantic stuff finally starts, it was harder to write than I realized.

Enjoy

* * *

The next day Malik felt like shit. He had dozed off one or two times, only to be awoken by some sound nearby, the shout of a guard or the clang of church bells. When he finally realized that he would not be getting any more sleep he rose to his feet slowly, feeling his joints crack from his workout the previous day. The main room of the bureau was empty, where was Altair? Was he still asleep? No, the lattice was open, meaning the Rafiq was awake at least, just not here.  
On the counter, separate from the scrolls and papers that had been dealt with yesterday, was a note pinned to the dark wood with a throwing knife. Malik suspected the knife was there to make sure the Assassin didn't miss it, seeing as it was a piece of paper on a desk covered in papers. He picked it up, trying to decipher the messy handwriting.

_Malik-_ the note read.

_Check the rich district; it seems to be where Talal's slave trade is centered. There's a warehouse somewhere that serves as a base. Several informants have shown up here recently, and it would not hurt to get some of those vigilantes on your side by helping out those who need it._  
_Also, you will have to tell me what you find out if you want that feather. Maybe rehearsing what you will say can help?_

_Best of luck,_

_Altair_

He stared at the paper for a few seconds before understanding what was written upon it. Altair had known all along that he was after Talal and had played stupid. Malik was pissed, would that man's rudeness ever end? His hand was shaking, what right did Altair have to lecture him, a man of higher rank, on one's behavior while continuing to be the mean person he'd always been? Was the whole "beaten cripple" behavior he'd seen yesterday just an act to make Malik pity him?

Something on the page caught his eye and he read over the note again, picking up more than just the fact that his target's name had been known. The Rafiq had actually realized that Malik was having a hard time talking to him and was gone now for that very reason; leaving behind leads on how to gather more information, and things that might help him in the mission itself? This behavior was most unlike that of the man he'd once known, and thinking back to the day before, that novice had said that Altair's knowledge had been helpful. Maybe his new position wasn't that bad of a decision at all.

Where had he said to go? The rich district? It was worth checking out, it wasn't like he had any other leads to go on, and if they didn't have any results he could let the Rafiq know his information was useless. Might as well head out so he'd get back before sundown.

* * *

Dropping back into the bureau Malik was torn between irritation and gratitude, gratitude for how Altair had known exactly where to look for information concerning Talal, and irritation for the same exact reasons. Why couldn't that man just make a mistake already? It was easier to be mad at him rather than to admit he had been helpful. The Assassin ran his hands through his dark brown hair, ruffling it and rubbing his goatee in agitation as be braced himself for another encounter with the Rafiq,

When he actually entered the main room he found himself in the same situation as the previous day, Altair fast asleep on the counter, a pile of papers next to him. The heat of the day must have affected him, as he was only wearing his black robe over a bare chest and pants. "You have to be the laziest Rafiq there is" Malik scolded, leaning over the sleeping man and examining his face to see if he had managed to get ink on it.

Faster than he thought was possible the former Assassin had snatched up the older man's face in his remaining hand and pressed their lips together. Then it was over, a quick peck was all it had been, but it was enough to make Malik's cheeks feel warm and make him think confusing things. He stared at Altair, hoping that he would be the first to say something.

The Rafiq must have sensed the awkwardness in the air because he spoke up, his voice cheery; "you didn't think you were getting my information for free, did you?"

The spell had broken. "What was that about?" Malik demanded, hoping his face wasn't as red as he thought it must be.

"I thought I told you; payment for my services. We Rafiqs all specialize in a particular area with skills we can teach to others? That Dai in Damascus has his pots, and I have my knowledge, which you found more than helpful, no? You wouldn't just take a pot without paying for it now, would you?" The younger man's eyes had some life to them as he spoke, they were far less dull than they had been, but they were still not the golden eyes of his past self.

"All Rafiqs are supposed to give out information to members of the Brotherhood, no charge necessary." What was Altair thinking? Forcing people to pay for leads? Malik folded his arms across his chest in frustration, the headache that had been gone for such a blissful amount of time was back in full force, his temples throbbing with every best of his heart .

"Since when has any of the information the others have given out compared to mine, which was harder than it should be seeing as you kept your mouth shut on who your target was."

"How did you know who I was here for anyway? Did the Master send you something?"

"A little bird told me." The Rafiq leaned on his one arm in a relaxed manner. "Or at least a little bird gave me a message from your brother telling me about your new mark, since it's in my territory and all."

"Kadar told you? Why?" The Assassin was so frustrated, why did this man have to make things so difficult for him?

"He and I have been keeping in touch ever since I arrived in Jerusalem. He seemed to think that having someone to talk to back in Masyaf would make me less lonely, but I have no reason to be lonely out here, do I Malik? I don't have emotions, do I? Isn't that what you said the last time you saw me there? When I was still healing, painfully, from the wound I had received by saving your brother's life."

The memory came back suddenly, bringing guilt and some other... unwanted feelings with it. "Enough of this Altair, what do you want from me? To humiliate me? To make me apologize for your injury? I have paid you back for protecting Kadar, I owe you nothing, yet you still insist on bringing up past events. What have you to say about that?"

The gleam in the Rafiq's eyes vanished, leaving only cold, hard, anger behind; his hand clenched beneath his chin, and he slammed it down on the counter, knocking over one of the ink bottles and causing it to shatter on the floor. "What have I got to say about that?" He demanded, his voice hollow, devoid of emotion. "I have a lot to say on the matter, most of which I had decided to keep from you, because I thought you might worry if you'd heard what I've gone through in this past one month."

"Every day, when I wake up I ask myself 'would anyone care if I didn't show up today?' Not because I'm a Rafiq, and they need information, but because they're genuinely concerned about my well being and want to know if I'm doing alright. Every day I have to force myself out of bed, force myself to bathe, to eat, to get dressed, because a good part of me has given up and says 'why bother with that stuff anymore?' Do you really think I'm happy here Malik? Here where the guards have marked me as an easy target for stress relief, where I can't even get dressed without struggling, where I'm reminded daily that everything that happened is my fault, and that I should just be glad to be alive?" Altair was crying, silent tears dripping out of his right eye in a neat line. "I hate everything Malik, I hate this post, I hate Robert de Sable, I hate the Master, I hate you, and I hate myself most of all."

It seemed like the man could take no more, and he spun around to head back into his private chambers. Malik didn't know what to do, the last time he had seen Altair cry had been back when they were boys, although the cause of his tears had long since been forgotten. The lattice, he thought, and strode back into the garden area with the notion of closing the secret entrance so no one would join them, and the sudden urge to run away hit him from nowhere.

Why did he have to deal with this madness? Yes, they had once been best friends, but they hadn't been for a while, and it wasn't fair that he had to keep being dragged into whatever messes the other man made for himself. He sighed, grabbing the pole from it's place in the corner and dragging the cover over the hole above him. The Assassin would deal with this just one time, then, no matter what was thrown at him, he wasn't going to do a thing.

The door behind the counter was partially open, as if inviting Malik to come inside; upon entering the room he found Altair sitting on his bed, his back to the door, bundled up in blankets. His face was hidden from sight so it was hard to tell whether or not the tears had stopped flowing, but something had to be done. He sighed and leaned against the doorframe.

"Look, I'm sorry for not realizing what you have been going through these past weeks, I admit to having been busy with missions lately, but I still should have kept in contact with you. I also admit to thinking we could act the same as we had before, well, before Solomon's Temple, even if you were an arrogant dolt back then. It is clear to me that things have changed greatly within this small span of time, and while they haven't effected me much, they have plainly caused you a lot of damage, both mentally and physically."

It was hard, saying all that; but it had to be done. With each thing he told the younger man Malik found himself coming to understand the situation they were in. The two of them were both stuck deep in a sinkhole that had been biding its time for years, waiting until they were at their weakest points before swallowing them up. They had been enemies, rivals for a period of time before learning to put their differences aside and becoming friends, and even best friends. They had since grown apart in the last few years, with Altair becoming a Master Assassin, one who was arrogant and judgmental of others, and Malik finding his behavior unacceptable and growing jealous of the younger man's talents. Was it even possible to fix the rift between them at all?

"I apologize for my actions, and it is time you apologize for yours. You wound up like this because you thought you were above the Creed and knew better than your superiors. However by losing your arm and your rank, you have been exposed to a life you never knew before, one that you even went so far as to scorn in the past. This has been a learning experience for us both, and if we help each other I'm certain things will change, not only for us, but for the Brotherhood as well."

Altair seemed to shrug the blankets off his shoulders, revealing that he had taken off his black robe and since there was nothing on underneath Malik was able to see what remained of the man's left arm. It was disorienting, seeing nothing where flesh and bone should have been, the limb ended half a foot below the shoulder, the end a scarred mess that seemed to have not healed fully even after a month. How must it feel, to wake up each day and look at that, that thing instead of the functioning arm that should have been there? He couldn't imagine how tough a life that must be.

"Really brother?" The Rafiq asked in a disbelieving voice. "What will change? Will people actually respect me once again, or will they see what you see before you right now? Something that shouldn't exist, a creature which is deformed and crippled."

The older man felt his stomach tighten, at a loss for what to say, so instead of speaking he walked right over to where Altair sat and wrapped his arms around him, being careful as to not touch the injured limb. "You think that is what I see when I look at you? You are wrong brother, I see a brave man who does his best each day, despite whatever hardships he may face. You say you ask yourself if anyone cares for you? I do, I have for a long time, and I will do everything I can to help you realize that you are not the crippled Rafiq you think you are."

Malik felt the younger man start moving and released his grip upon him, Altair had turned around to face him, they were now sitting side by side on the bed. The Assassin was wondering just what had come over him since he had entered this room, but suddenly the compassion he felt for this man had intensified, brought upon by his guilt, his memories of the past, and just being near him. He wanted to run his fingers through that brown hair, hug him once more, and just be by his side.

The Rafiq placed his head on the older man's shoulder, and Malik could feel the warm breath against his skin. His cheeks felt hot, and the only thing he could think to do was place his arm around Altair's shoulders and pulled him closer, unable to think of anything to say.

"Malik?" The younger man asked worriedly.

"Yes brother?" Came the reply, if a bit uncertainly.

"Can I kiss you again?" The question was startling, even though the Assassin should have seen it coming. He didn't know what the right answer was, what was appropriate to do in a situation like this. He ran through possible solutions in his head and the only one that seemed to result in something good happening just happened to be the same thing he felt like doing, was it just coincidence?

"You can."

* * *

I already said this chapter was hard to write, I left it aside for a few days to see if I liked it better after not seeing it, during that time I wrote 4000 words in one day about my original characters. I call that progress.

I also caught a cold and I'm not really thinking straight. Germs suck.

While reading my other work I discovered I really like the bonds that tie people together, whether it involves fraying bonds, like what's happening here (imagine a rope breaking apart in the middle) or two people who don't get along initially, or bonds that people don't sense, they just feel like that person is important to them.

Anyway, bonds, cool, that's what I'm dealing with here, tying a broken rope back together. Except it's people not rope, and kissing is involved.

My metaphors suck.

Sorry for making you wait a while for this. Tumblr is ms-monochrome if you want to see how weird my brain is.

MsMonochrome


	11. Sketchy stories

Some cuteness in here, in addition to character development.

I don't own Assassin's Creed, but I like to pretend I might someday.

* * *

Upon waking once more he found the bed empty, his fingers reaching out for warmth no longer there and finding only cold sheets instead. He rose to his elbows, glancing around the room for any sign of Altair and finding none, which was worrying. The door opened, causing Malik to jump, and the Rafiq stood there grinning at him tiredly, a bundle of cloth tucked under his arm.

"I figured you might want a fresh pair of robes since your current pair seems to be in need of a wash." The younger man threw the clothes at Malik and they landed on the bed in a soft thump. Altair looked better than he had the day before, there was more life to his eyes, and he seemed not as beaten down as before. The cuts and bruises were as painful to look at as they had been, but they seemed to be healing somewhat, the purples turning into yellows and greens as time passed. The hair on his chin had grown longer, and it irked the Assassin, to see his colleague looking so disheveled, like a beggar on the streets.

"Thank you, Altair. A wash and a change of clothes should be most pleasant; do you have a razor I could use as well? Or will I have to buy one since I'd rather not resort to throwing knives?"

"I have one somewhere." The Rafiq huffed, strolling out of the room muttering curses under his breath.

Malik chuckled to himself, running a finger over the clean robes. Altair certainly was changing here at his new post; and while it did not come without struggles, it was good for him. Thinking back to their kiss the previous night he felt his cheeks burn, it was wrong to have these thoughts, men should not be involved with other men. Yet, there was that part of him that longed to pull Altair close, bury his fingers in that soft brown hair, and kiss him until they were both breathless. It sounded so nice, could it really be so wrong?

The bath was nice and warm when he got into it, and it soothed his sore muscles, the heat working out any kinks they had. The clean robes were also appreciated, because getting into dirty clothes after washing basically defeated the point of bathing to begin with. Altair had actually thought about such things, something strange and amusing. That man had actually changed somewhat.

Once he had dressed Malik entered the main room of the bureau where the Rafiq sat, his attention focused solely on a paper, upon which he seemed to be sketching something. Walking closer it looked like a hidden blade, but the blade he drew seemed different than the kind strapped to the older man's wrist, the mechanisms changed slightly.

"What are you drawing?" The Assassin asked, trying not to startle Altair and failing. One of the straps grew a loose thread as his hand jerked sideways. "Sorry," Malik grimaced. "But if I were a Templar you would be dead by now. It would be a shame to lose your life because you are so focused on your doodles you fail to hear an approaching enemy."

Altair glared up at the older man, clearly embarrassed at being caught in such a vulnerable position and angry that it had been Malik who caught him. "I would hope you are not a Templar brother, I would hate to kill you for treason."

"You wouldn't kill me, you like me too much," the Assassin replied, smiling. "What are you working on?"

"A design for a new type of hidden blade, one that does not require losing a finger in order to wield it." The Rafiq returned his attention to the sketch before him, trying to fix his line work, but it seemed impossible. "News has reached me about soldiers using our missing finger as a means to identify those in the Order, several of our brothers have been killed as a result, so we need to change things."

"You're designing a new hidden blade? You can do that?" Malik was impressed, he had always thought of Altair as a man who disregarded anything that didn't have to do with fighting, and therefore had not expected much of him where paper and quills were concerned. He certainly had not expected the man to be capable of designing new hidden blades, especially ones that might help people other than himself.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Altair responded, still focusing on his work.

"I have never heard of you being interested in making things better for other people, you seem like the type to let things stay the way they are so long as they work properly."

"I'm honored to hear you think so highly of me. I actually have a lot of ideas for how to make our Brotherhood even better, but nobody cares to listen to what I have to say," the Rafiq said listlessly. "Imagine how things would change if we could poison people by using our blades, the metal hollowed out to hold the stuff. What could happen if every Assassin were trained to kill people by jumping from rooftops, while hiding within haystacks, or by pulling guards off balconies? The thing about our job is that we can never stop refining it, because our enemies will undoubtably catch on to our current methods, and if we haven't changed them, we are all dead."

Altair's eyes seemed to light up as he spoke, it was obvious that he had given the subject a great deal of thought, possibly over several years, and yet no one paid attention to his ideas because of his attitude. Killing a target while hidden in a haystack made perfect sense, nobody bothered to check the hay for people unless they saw someone land in it, hell, you could hide the body in there too and it wouldn't be found for days. Why had nobody thought of that before?

The younger man seemed to notice that he had been rambling and flushed slightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, you were fine, you weren't boring me at all," Malik interrupted him. I've never actually seen you so interested in anything other than killing, but when you talk about your ideas it is like you are a completely different person. To be honest, I find it... somewhat attractive."

Altair went a shade redder and attempted to cover up the blush with his hand, and failed. The Assassin grinned at the surprising sight before him, never before had he witnessed such a thing.

"W-what information did you gather about Talal yesterday? Was my advice useful?" The Rafiq was quick to change the subject, something that did not go unnoticed by Malik. He decided to act as if he hadn't noticed anything.

"It was actually, I had no idea that Jerusalem had so many citizens willing to help someone escape the guards. That, combined with a map I was able to steal, should make my mission rather easy."

"When do you think you will be ready to complete it? I'm sure you are eager to tell Al Mualim of your success here."

Malik was about to respond, to tell Altair that he could kill Talal at any time, the man never seemed to leave Jerusalem. Then he remembered just how broken the man in front of him was, could he even be left on his own anymore? The Assassin felt like he needed to stay here, to help the Rafiq recover, even if it meant not being able to accomplish more missions. The task of healing a friend seemed more important than anything else at the time, but he couldn't do that without lying to his brothers. Could he even do a thing like that?

"I think I still need a bit more time, Talal is a man known to be skilled at running from pursuers, I intend to follow him, study his routes a bit before I corner him. It should not take too much time though, I won't be imposing on you for much longer."

If Altair noticed the lie he didn't show it, he simply smiled at Malik and pulled him close, placing a quick kiss on his lips before saying "I won't keep you then. Good luck my friend."

* * *

For some reason I'm finding it hard to write cute interactions between these guys, maybe it's because they're still working things out between them. Malik seems to be enjoying making Altair uncomfortable though, which I didn't expect. I kinda expected Altair to be a bit cuddly with Malik, but that ended up not happening.

I decided to make Altair design things because he's a Rafiq, so he must have a talent he can teach others in, and while knowing things is one of his bigger aspects, he has to do something people can actually see as well. Altair designed the different hidden blades with the help of the Apple, yes, but he must have been thinking of doing that already and just used the Apple to find out how to make his vision a reality.

That's just what I think anyway.


	12. Trouble on the streets

I should be asleep... but as a gift to you all mere hours before my birthday I give you a new chapter.

Assassin's creed does not belong to me but would make an awesome gift.

* * *

Once Malik had left the bureau Altair let out a sigh and rested his head upon the counter, attempting to keep the pounding of his heart under control. It was no easy feat, resisting the temptation to tease his friend, and talk with him. Yes, being more intimate would be nice, but just spending time with the Assassin was already helping to lift his spirits and make life more bearable.

Last night had been hard, he'd opened his heart to Malik, something he had done, maybe once in never before. It had been painful, really, really painful, to open up like that and tell someone just how he felt about his life, how pointless each day felt now, and how close he was to giving up completely.

Altair hated himself. He had come to accept that he deserved this punishment, for breaking the Creed, for not listening to Malik, and for thinking he could challenge Robert de Sable like that. It made sense for something bad to have happened in the end, and he saw no point in making up lies in an attempt to excuse his actions.

He had accepted that he was responsible for his current situation, but that didn't mean he had to like it. It didn't mean he forgave himself for what he did back there in Solomon's Temple. It was also likely that he would never forgive himself, because forgiving himself would cause him to make the same foolish errors over again, and despite all the burdens he'd been forced to bear, he didn't want to be that man he was back then, ever. The man he had been was arrogant and disrespectful, quick to ignore the rules and choosing to believe that the ends justified the means, he had hurt many people over the years, and they were likely to hold his actions against him until his dying day.

A letter from one of the Brotherhood's informants located in Acre had been delivered yesterday and Altair needed to compare his notes and see if this new information matched up with what he already knew. It wasn't necessarily boring work, but it was time-consuming because he had to track down his other notes and while he would disagree with anyone who told him that his handwriting was terrible, it was difficult to read, even for him. Several hours later he had written up a report to send to Al Mualim, detailing the current situation in Acre and Jerusalem and the movement of certain individuals within them. He had needed to rewrite the thing after he had finished the first copy, because he kept changing his mind about what was the best way to phrase the information and crossing entire sentences out. Finally he sent a messenger pigeon off with the report and could get on with the rest of his duties.

Shopping had to be done next, something he dreaded doing but couldn't avoid; he needed new quills, bread, bandages, and other things that he found himself constantly running low on because of the work he did. Still, there was no way to get everything on his list and remain unnoticed by the guards, they were quick to notice their favorite source of entertainment when he went out. The Rafiq took a back alley in an attempt to avoid meeting any soldiers for as long as he could when he saw a man in armor, a helm covering his face and a red cross on his tunic, step out from the remains of a building.

"Assassin!" The knight yelled, drawing his blade and advancing towards Altair with quick, steady steps. He felt felt naked, only having throwing knives and a short sword on him since they were easy to conceal from people, but those were hardly useful against a Templar, someone who had been trained to counter his moves.

"I know not of what you speak; I am a scribe, my weapons are quills, my battlefield is but paper, no blood is shed, only ink. I ask that you sheathe your sword and let me pass on my way, I guarantee you will not see me cutting down those in my way."

"Lies, all of it. You are Altair, the Eagle of Masyaf; Assassin and slave to your Master, yet willing to ignore your precious Creed in pursuit of your missions. There are none in our ranks who is unaware of your existence, or has this news escaped your ears?"

Altair thought his heart had fallen all the way into his stomach; he only had one working arm and with it he couldn't attack and defend himself at the same time, especially not against a Templar. The only thing he was thankful for was that he hadn't started shopping yet, or else his purchases would be one more thing to worry about, and that list was already too full for his liking.

He drew his short sword, hoping to end the fight quickly with a counter attack, but he knew that the likelihood of him coming out victorious was slimmer than it had ever been. The soldier charged towards him, brandishing his sword in a thrust that was barely avoided, but the Rafiq hadn't lost all of his skills with his arm, and he could dodge an attack fairly well when he wanted to. Another flash of steel, a sidestroke, and the sound of clashing metal resounded in the air as it was blocked, both men stepping backwards and circling each other, waiting for the other to make a mistake.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a gleam of silver and leapt aside as the knife planted itself in the Templar's armor. It didn't do much damage, but it provided an opportunity for Altair to cut the man's throat and toss him back into the dilapidated structure he had appeared from. A thump sounded nearby and a tall figure clothed in Assassin robes rose to their feet and approached him, it was only when the two men were separated by a few feet that he recognized Malik's dark eyes peering out at him from under the hood and pursed his lips together.

"I could have taken him without your help you know," the younger man sighed pointedly. There was no reason to interfere."

"From my point of view there was a very good reason to intervene, as I think standing by and watching him slaughter you to be a bit rude, honestly. What do you think?" The older man grinned at him in an evil way, as if he knew just how much it would annoy the Rafiq.

"I think both of us have tasks to be completed and that idle chitchat prevents that from happening. If you have anything of value to say, do so and be done."

"I assume this means I will not be thanked for this?" Malik crossed his arms and frowned, sweat gleaming on his brow in the afternoon sun.

"I see no reason to thank you, as you have just reminded me of how utterly helpless the world thinks I am. Leave me in peace, I have things to do; or would you like to complete them for me since I'm too crippled to do so myself?"

"Altair!" The Assassin raised his voice in an attempt to get the other's attention.

"What?" He snapped, glaring at his friend.

"You are acting like a child, if you have things to do go do them, arguing with me only wastes time better spent elsewhere. Did you not just say so yourself?"

The Rafiq huffed loudly and turned on his heel before walking away without so much as a glance behind him. He was embarrassed to have been caught in a situation like that; being treated as though he were an invalid, it was horrifying to think about how only weeks ago he could have taken that Templar with ease, and now other people wouldn't let him fight in his own. It made him feel helpless, hopeless, and useless.

He was just 'less' now. Less than an Assassin, less than useful, less than a man.

And he despised it.

* * *

Short chapter, I'm sorry, but it had to be there. I realized how most of my recent chapters had been from Malik's point of view so I decided to change it up a bit.

Reviews are much appreciated, please tell me what you think, and I hope you continue reading this fic.


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